


No Place For You To Hide

by idrilhadhafang



Series: Liquid Realities [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst Bingo, F/M, Gen, M/M, attempts to fuse the master's many backstories, bordering-on-ainley-simm-master, most likely doomed to failure, nine/master slashy undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-17
Updated: 2012-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-07 23:29:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idrilhadhafang/pseuds/idrilhadhafang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Nine and company are hunted in Saxon-era Britain, Martha's family is arrested, and the Master has a bit too much fun mindfucking Nine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Place For You To Hide

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. 
> 
> Written for the angst bingo prompt, "Wild Card" -- I chose "tight spaces", at least in the metaphorical sense. Also, I believe I was writing Simm!Master and ended up channeling Ainley's master unconsciously. Which is bizarre considering I haven't really seen much of Ainley's Master outside, maybe, "Castrovalva". Ah, irony...
> 
> Title from LES MISERABLES, from "The Confrontation". *Makes note to write LES MISERABLES AU with the Doctor as Jean Valjean and the Master/Harold Saxon as Inspector Javert. Because it was meant to be. XD*

It's afternoon when they arrest the Jones family. Even now, it's so dreadfully boring as the Master watches them hoard Martha's father into a truck as the man protests, screaming that the citizens of Britain voted for Saxon, that they condemned him to this fate.   
  
How naive. Does he not know his daughter is a wanted criminal?   
  


He does only what he must. For a more...orderly world. Not that they would understand.

  


Meanwhile, the Jones girl is speaking with someone else -- one of her pitiful *friends*, no doubt. "Leo, whatever you do, don't phone Mum or Dad -- " She keeps going on, no doubt giving him those directions she thinks will "protect" them.

  


"Oh, a little game of hide and seek. I like that." He can hear Martha's sharp intake of breath as she seems to realize he was listening in the whole time. Naive girl. "But I will find you, Martha Jones. It's been a long time since we saw each other."

Martha's shock is quickly replaced with anger. "Let them go, Saxon." 

Ah, righteous anger. How quaint.

"Do you hear me?" Martha is furious now, quite noticeably so. "Let them go!"

"Martha." A new voice, fainter really, with a thick, distinctive Northern English accent. "Let me speak to him. Please."

The voice is different. But the inflections, the gravity of it, the sheer *arrogance* --

It's the Doctor.

Even this realization makes the Master's heartbeat, these twin hearts in his chest, beat all the faster.

Doctor.  _Theta._

His former friend on Gallifrey, now his enemy.

 The Doctor, this new Doctor -- he hasn't seen this Doctor since...a hundred trillion years or more. And just to know that he's there, in Britain, to hear his voice...

Martha is reluctant to comply, of course, but eventually, she does. Even hearing him speak, hearing him confirm the Master's thoughts -- his hearts are practically *racing* now.

"I'm here." There it is: the arrogance, the pride, the presumption -- the impatience. The Master gives a contented sigh; he's almost forgotten how much he's missed the Doctor. 

"Doctor..." 

"Master." 

The Doctor doesn't sound happy to see him, obviously. No matter. The Master smiles -- there is something exceptional, to say the least, about the Doctor saying that word in that thick, brusque Northern England accent. "I like it when you use my name."

"You chose it."

"As you chose yours. The man who makes people better...how sanctimonious is that?"

He can practically hear the Doctor's suppressed snort of annoyance and cuts it off before the Doctor can fire some sort of witty comeback -- he's not there to banter with the Doctor, after all. "But enough of that. Is there any reason why you're calling, Doctor? Any at all?"

"Reason?" The Doctor snorts -- it's more audible this time. "Oh, where do I even begin? First of all, why were you in disguise a hundred or so trillion years ago, when we were trying to get to Utopia? Second of all, how did you become Prime Minister of Great Britain with a wife, to boot? Third, I do hope you're not planning to hurt Martha Jones' family, or I may have to become quite cross."

Of course. Predictable as ever. But the Doctor's not done, of course. "And finally, and most importantly, what in the name of Rassilon are these creatures? Are they the Toclafane?"

Ah. Should have known he'd start getting all righteous about that. "Do you remember the tales of the Toclafane when we were kids, Doctor?"

"I don't have time for reminiscing," the Doctor snaps, "Why are you allied with them? What were you thinking?"

"It's only a temporary alliance, Doctor. Don't you fear." Granted, he's lying, of course. The Toclafane will be perfect to subjugate the population when the real invasion of Earth begins.

"Right. Right." The Doctor sighs; he doesn't sound convinced, though, merely further irritated. The Master can't help but smirk at that -- it's always quite enjoyable, angering the Doctor. "Now...what about Utopia? Why were you in disguise?"

"I wasn't 'in disguise', Doctor." A pause. "At least, not in the sense you would expect."

The Doctor's patience is obviously thinning as he snaps, "Then what sense?"

"The Time Lords resurrected me because they thought I would be the perfect weapon against the Daleks." Even now, the Master remembers the Time Lords, trying to bargain with him, trying to offer a new form for him in place of the one that ultimately burned in the Eye of Harmony. Fools, all of them. "But it was at the Cruciform, when the Daleks took it, and..." He feels almost embarrassed admitting it to the Doctor. "I was so scared."

To his surprise, the Doctor seems to soften his tone a bit. "That I can imagine." 

"What about you?"

Silence.

"Gallifrey is gone. I destroyed it."

"What?"

Even now, the Master feels as if the floor has been pulled underneath him -- and he's falling, falling steadily through space. "How could you even -- ''

"I had no other choice. I was the only one who could end it." The Doctor's voice makes it clear now that the subject is closed.

But somehow, the Master doesn't want to stop. "You must have been like God -- "

"Stop it." The Doctor seems now on the verge of tears.

"How did it feel, Doctor?" The Master's breath quickens and his two hearts beat faster even as he speaks -- even as he imagines his old friend in the middle of the destruction of Time Lords and Daleks alike. "Tell me."

"Stop it!"

Oh, the Doctor's anger is music to his ears. Such exquisite, barely contained rage. Which is brought to an unsatisfying halt as the Doctor continues to speak, his voice seeming to shake, if slightly, after his outburst. "We're the only Time Lords in existence. If there's one good thing you can do for once, you can come with me and put things right in the universe."

"Are you suggesting I -- "

"Whatever it is you're thinking, no."

Pity. He had hoped...then again, he supposed it shouldn't come as a surprise. He sighs. "I believe you would best be getting to running, Doctor."

"Is that a threat?"

"Call it a suggestion. You and your band are now public enemies number one, two, three and four. I would hate to have to arrest you."

"Indeed?"

There's the sound of an explosion -- no doubt the Doctor using his sonic screwdriver to short out one of many cameras.

"Oh, you *public menace* -- " The Master has to grin, though -- this is the Doctor he remembers. "Run, Doctor! Run for your life!"

***

Normally, the Doctor would not take the advice of one of his sworn enemies, especially advice that sounded vaguely like a threat. And yet the police are no doubt after them, and after seeing Martha's father carted away like that, he can't --

He switches off Martha's phone, before turning to Rose and the others. "Run."

They don't argue. It's become almost everyday for them now.

 

It's long after they've managed to get away from the Master's police force that they finally get around to talking again. Even now, the Doctor feels oddly cozy in this little room, this little hideaway of sorts, with its dim lighting, its faint lights almost like candles, and with some of his dearest friends. He would manage to get cozy, except for the fact that the Master is still on their tail, so to speak, and the only reason they aren't in prison yet is that the Master...well, he must have been feeling merciful that day.

 

Knowing how the Master switched sides in the past whenever it benefited his purposes, worked with the Doctor when it could personally help him, the Doctor can't really call the Master's mercy comfort.

"So what's this Master all about?" Jack settles comfortably next to Martha. "Former acquaintance of yours?"

 

Rose shoots him a look, a look that says he's clearly hit too close to the mark.

 

"Sorry," Jack says, "It's just..." He sighs. "I just want to know what exactly we're up against."

 

"He's right." Martha's voice is soft, but no less resolute.

 

The Doctor is silent for a long time. Though he hates to admit it, Jack's statement has hit more than slightly close to home. It feels almost like recounting the Time War all over again -- there's just so much that happened that he doesn't know where to begin. He remembers Castrovalva, and the Master trapping him in that illusion world. He remembers Logopolis, when the Master attempted to hold reality itself hostage. He remembers the incident with the Sea Devils as well, and the time when the Master attempted to steal his new body. 

 

He remembers the Master's laugh, that horrible laugh, even as he lay dying in the caves on Androzani Minor. 

 

He remembers when he and Grace Holloway had to team up if only to stop the Master from ultimately taking over the world. From opening the Eye of Harmony. From stealing the Doctor's remaining lives if only because his were running out.

 

He remembers too much about the Master.

 

And at the same time, he remembers Koschei, who the Master used to be. Gentle, dutiful Koschei, who would be occasionally tempted into sneaking away with his friend Theta, if only to go drinking with Shobogans. He remembers fields of red grass, and how he and Koschei would run through them, calling up at the sky. Lying underneath the stars at Theta's residence, trying to point out constellations. Sabotaging one another's homework. Koschei, hypnotizing people if only as a joke, so Theta could un-hypnotize them later.

 

He remembers everything about Koschei. Too much, in fact. Gentle, loving, occasionally mischievous Koschei, obsessed with order, obsessed with making things right -- a place, perhaps, where he was not so different from the Doctor. From Theta, his dear friend.

 

"Doctor?" Rose's voice is gentle. Too gentle, really.

 

The Doctor eventually raises his head.

 

"Yes, I knew the Master," he said, "A bit...too well, in retrospect." He closes his eyes, tries to think of the fields of red grass near Mount Perdition, the two of them romping in the fields and laughing and later, lying there, asking questions about the stars. About time.

 

"Retrospect?" Martha, this time.

 

"He was one of my dearest friends."

 

A pause.

 

"Doctor," Rose says, softly, "I'm so sorry."

 

"It's all right. It...happens to everyone." And yet at the same time, he can't bear to tell Rose that maybe, just maybe, he had played a part in making Koschei who he became. He can't say that Koschei came back right after his initiation -- after staring into the Time Vortex itself. He remembered the nightmares his friend had -- how Koschei would wake in the night, clutching his head, muttering.

 

  
_"OnetwothreeFOURonetwothreeFOUR -- "_

_  
_

He had longed to find a way to help Koschei. But no one could find a cure for the constant rhythm in Koschei's mind -- that terrible staccato rhythm that Koschei would sometimes tap out. They could only offer advice on how to filter it, nothing more, and even that didn't always help.

 

Koschei's descent hadn't started overnight; if anything, it wasn't just the drums, though they didn't help -- it was a desire for order. A desire for revenge on his former friend, no doubt  because of Theta's hubris in suggesting Koschei become Death's Champion. It was a sum of so many things the Doctor can't name just one. And he hates it.

 

He can only hope that here, in this new world Saxon rules, he can find some form of redemption for them both. Saving both their souls. 

 

Perhaps the Master won't accept it. But it is worth trying -- he hopes.


End file.
